


Green Light

by Arsenic



Series: Discipline and Punish [36]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-15
Updated: 2007-11-15
Packaged: 2020-03-29 10:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19017940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsenic/pseuds/Arsenic
Summary: Gerard gets the contract.





	Green Light

Despite Bob being very clear about the fact that he wasn't going to be the ring's mechanic anymore, when the the time for his parole crept around, Yuri set him up with a lawyer. Bob said, "I'll pay you back."

Yuri said, "Keep your money like you kept our secrets, Bryar."

Bob was pretty sure Yuri sometimes got the nationality on Bob's birth certificate confused with the way Bob's world was clearly constructed. "That wasn't a favor."

Yuri shrugged. "Then neither is this."

 

*

Zack had a fondness for VRSCAWs, The Beatles, and other people who were willing to talk to him about either of these things. He was in on assault for beating the crap out of some guy who'd tried hitting on his girlfriend. Zack had possessiveness issues coupled with anger issues and between the two, his sentence had now been extended. Twice. Bob felt bad for the guy, but he wasn't going to let that get in the way of him capitalizing on Zack's usefulness.

Bob wasn't trying to rev his engine before turning the car on, or anything, but on the chance that Bob got out, Frank was going to need someone at his back. Tommy's sentence was up in three months, and Bob really, really wasn't comfortable just leaving Frank to his own devices. Mikey would _kill_ Bob if something happened, and Bob would have to accept that with a sense of divine justice being played out. It promised to be upsetting for everyone involved. Zack was ideal for keeping Frank settled for a few reasons: 1) He already liked Frank, 2) he was actually, certifiably straight, and 3) people had learned the hard way not to fuck with what was Zack's.

Bob didn't say anything at first, just worked it so that Frank and Zack were spending a lot more time together than usual. It was ostensibly so that Frank could learn more about the VRSC series. Zack was more than happy to teach him, and Frank was happy enough to learn, so it was easy to slip the fact that he was plotting plots and planning plans right under the radar. When it turned out that Frank had an unusually extensive knowledge of The Beatles, Bob took it as a sign from a deity he only casually believed in here and there that this was clearly Meant To Be.

 

*

Yuri's lawyer was a middle-age man who was more comfortable speaking in Russian than English, but seemed to know his stuff. Bob wasn't surprised by any of this. Bob told him about the fight with Niguero, a few of the minor skirmishes he'd found himself taking part in, and the riot that he had only been peripherally involved in. The lawyer asked if he used. Bob said, "No."

The lawyer asked, " _Did_ you use?"

Bob looked at him evenly and said, "No."

"And you have been working in the mailroom?"

Bob nodded.

"Have you done anything else with your time? Read a book? Gone to therapy? Anything that might be looked upon favorably."

"Took a correspondence course to become a licensed auto mechanic."

The lawyer looked at him sharply. Bob shrugged. He'd worn a sweater to the meeting in the attempt to look respectable, but it meant the guy couldn't see his spider, couldn't understand that Bob didn't want to get out just to go back in again. And there were certain things Bob wasn't telling him, wasn't _going_ to tell him. The lawyer took some notes and said, "Very well. The date has been set for two weeks from now. I will contact you if I need anything further."

Bob hung up the visiting phone, stood, and let the hack take him back to his cell.

 

*

"They picked my design!" Gerard was all but coming out of his skin with glee. Bob was happy for him, he really was, but unlike Gerard, Bob hadn't really doubted that Gerard's design would be the one they went with. Gerard had shown it to him, and Bob had known that no matter what the others looked like, if they didn't choose Gerard's, Brian's band friends were morons. He didn't really get the impression that they were.

"Do you know what this means?" Gerard asked.

Bob tried not to think, _a week and a half, a week and a half,_ because there were no guarantees. He still had no intention of giving up the ring, not even to be with Gerard. He tried not to want to taste the way Gerard's excitement was always sour-sweet on his tongue, feel the way Gerard vibrated beneath his touch. Bob said, "Everyone's going to want to fuck you?"

"Tough luck for them," Gerard said, and, "No," the latter with a definite air of exasperation.

Bob suppressed a laugh and did his best to look innocent. "What, then?"

"I'm gonna get paid! For my art! And Patrick said Island really liked it and they were looking to shop me out to some of their other bands if I was up for it. Can you believe that?"

"Yes," Bob said, without thought or hesitation.

Gerard blinked at him. "Oh. Um. Really?"

"Yes," Bob said again.

"Huh."

Bob did smile at that. He couldn't help himself.

 

*

Frank said, "You should cut you hair. Before the hearing."

Bob looked at him. Frank shrugged. "You have the ability to look respectable, you might as well take it. Back me up, here."

Frank hadn't looked at Tommy as he'd said it, but Tommy nodded nonetheless. Bob wasn't sure that Tommy, with his metal and his makeup and his tulle skirt really had more of a leg to stand on than Frank, but that was two votes to one and it wasn't as though Bob were sentimentally attached to his hair or anything. He was just lazy when it came to getting around to cutting it. Bob said, "Okay."

"You can't fuck around with this, Bryar," Frank told him. Then, very softly, "Gerard's waiting."

Of all people, Bob knew that the most viscerally. It was all he could do not to close his eyes at the displaced yearning in Frank's voice. He noticed that Tommy looked away. "Trying my hardest, Iero."

Frank didn't seem entirely convinced, but he let it go for the moment.

 

*

Most of what Bob needed to do in the parole trial consisted of being quiet, which was good, because Bob excelled at being quiet. He had to answer a few questions here and there, such as, "Do you feel you've paid adequately for your crime?" and, "Do you have any plans on how to establish yourself outside without returning to crime?"

The second Bob felt was a valid question. The first was just retarded, because he didn't know anybody who was going to say, "No, please, a few more years are just what I need to get the aggression and social conditioning out of my system." Fucktards. Still, he answered politely and carefully, and let his lawyer do the overwhelming majority of the talking. Despite his comfort zone, the man spoke English quite fluently and made pretty jaw-dropping arguments about the improvement in Bob's behavior over the years and his clear skill set. Bob watched as the two who were clearly on the fence slowly came over to see thing's from Bob's point of view. Or at least, Bob's point of view as presented by Bob's lawyer, since Bob's point of view was closer to, "I'll be a model citizen so long as I can have Gerard."

He didn't see that going over as well as the fancy jargon his lawyer was using.

 

*

"Take care of Gerard," Frank told him. It sounded like a warning. Bob would have laughed, except that he kind of suspected that in a fight about the Ways, Frank might be able to take him. Or, more likely, Bob would let himself be taken.

"I won't let them get hurt," Bob said, because he was pretty clear on the rules. If Frank wanted to bring Mikey up, fine, but he wasn't going to be the one to rub his fingers in that wound.

"And that-- That they're eating enough."

Bob nodded.

"And happy."

Bob must have looked a little intimidated by that because Frank amended, "As happy as possible."

"Take care of Tommy," Bob said.

"As much as I can," Frank said, not without a touch of hopeless awareness to it.

"And let Zack--"

"Yeah," Frank said. "Thanks for setting that up."

"Behave yourself." Bob frowned a little. "Just--"

Frank nodded. "I know."

There were a million things that statement could have pertained to; Frank could have been talking about the number of days until his own parole trial, about the fact that Mikey was out there waiting, that Mikey needed him, that _he_ needed Mikey. Any of those, really. Bob said, "Okay."

It didn't matter which one it was.

 

*

"Can you come pick me up? Yuri should be able to drive you."

Having grown up as a public trans kid and not having had the money to buy a car, Gerard had never actually learned to drive. It was among the first things Bob intended to rectify once he was free.

"Wait." Gerard's breathing quickened. "Wait. What? Come pick you up?"

"I may not have mentioned that I had a par--"

"You had a parole hearing and you didn't say a _word_?"

"I didn't want you to get your hopes up." _I didn't want_ me _to get_ mine _up._

"I cannot believe-- You need me to come right now? Because I mean, I need to--"

"I get released tomorrow. Any time after eight."

"Oh, okay, okay. Let me just make some calls. I'll be there."

"Thanks," Bob said.

"You won't be saying that when I beat you to death."

Bob wasn't sure Gerard was right, but he knew better than to disagree.

 

*

Ilya pulled up in Jess' 1996 green Volvo station wagon. One of the things Bob liked best about Jess--and he pretty much just liked Jess--was that she took care of her things. He could see where she had waxed the car again to keep the paint in good condition, and he could hear that things were running smoothly. Bob wondered if they'd sold Ilya's hand-me-down Lexus. It was a gorgeous car, but this one was far more practical.

Mikey was in the passenger's seat and Gerard was there, waiting for him in the back. Bob put his hand to the door handle and found that he nearly couldn't open it. Gerard reached out, undid the latch from the inside, and pushed the door out to him. He said, "Hi."

He was wearing the collar, and his hair was carefully done. His shoes were tied and his clothes smelled clean. Bob wondered if he'd gone to the laundromat after getting the phone call yesterday. He thought maybe so. Bob slid in and said, "Ilya?"

"Da?"

"Drive."

Ilya drove. As soon as they were off prison property, Bob unhooked Gerard's seat belt and pulled him into his lap. He rebuckled them together and brought Gerard's face down for a kiss. Gerard made a frantic noise, kissing back messily, desperately. Bob worked a hand up inside Gerard's shirt at the small of his back and caught on to the collar with the other. He said, "Shh, shh. 'M'here."

"Bob," Gerard said shakily, like if he said it aloud Bob might disappear--a dream, an illusion.

Bob dragged his lips to Gerard's ear and hissed, "Jag." Then he made Gerard sit still politely while he said hi to Mikey and Ilya. He really hoped it wasn't a long drive home.


End file.
